Two of our kind
by Aeluin
Summary: Before the Hero of Kvatch became Lucien Lachance's personal assassin, the revered Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood had another Silencer. Hélène wasn't just a very skilled murderer - she was also the only woman Lucien had ever been willing to welcome into his life. (Lucien x fOC; rated M for gore, smut and mature themes)
1. Family

**As many of us know, Lucien Lachance had another Silencer before the Hero of Kvatch finally earned his trust. This had me wonder: what was this person like? What kind of relationship did they have with Lucien?** ** _What if they were more than simple colleagues?_** **As predictable, these questions have inspired me to write a story.**

 **This fanfic will deal with themes such as death and violence (after all, it's a DB story) and will contain my first, embarrassing attempts at writing smut.** **I probably won't update very often (I'm already busy enough with my other Skyrim story), but I'll do my best to give this fanfic a decent plot.**

 **Feedback, constructive criticism and reviews are always welcome.**

 **Thank you for reading!**

* * *

As he brought the goblet of wine to his lips, Lucien Lachance eyed the woman curled under the blankets of his bed. It was shortly past dawn and his Silencer was still lingering in Vaermina's realm.

Hélène had arrived at Fort Farragut the night before, tired and sleepy after fulfilling the usual, impressive string of flawless kills. Lucien had welcomed her to his table, then he'd made space for her in his bed. He had enjoyed the feeling of her soft body pressed against his own, then he had carefully studied the peaceful expression she wore whenever she was asleep, the way her breathing softly tickled his chest, the light scars that marred her right shoulder. Unfortunately, the time for tenderness was now over.

Had he been with someone else, Lucien would have already started working at his alchemy lab, without minding the effects that the noise of the pestle and the other devices could have on his guest' sleep. Yet, Hélène was no common guest – the Breton was his personal assassin, his Silencer, his right hand. But most of all, that lethal murderer was his lover.

Sighing at that thought, Lucien got up from his seat and walked towards his bed. He slowly peeled the blankets away from Hélène's body, then eagerly took in the sight of her naked form. Although he had slept with many other women, her perfect body never ceased to amaze him.

The assassin carefully eyed Hélène's blonde hair, her pale skin, her long and slender limbs. With careful movements, he got the woman to lay on her back, so that he could give her the awakening she deserved. Oblivious of his wicked plan, Helene stirred and whimpered, but kept on sleeping despite the cold air that was now brushing against her skin.

When the woman finally relaxed, Lucien mischievously smirked. Whenever Hélène spent the night in an inn or in the wilds, she woke up at the faintest noise. Yet, whenever she was at Fort Farragut, the Breton lowered her guard, forgot her worries, finally managed to feel safe and protected. Lucien couldn't help but smile at the irony of that: every time she slept in a comfortable tavern, his lover was always on edge; every time she was with the most lethal killer of Cyrodiil, she slept as soundly as a log.

As soon as Hélène resumed her calm breathing, Lucien grinned and lent down towards her. He brushed her hair away from her eyes, then he skimmed his hands over her bare sides. Eventually, he lowered his face and enveloped one of her nipples in his warm mouth. Hélène whimpered, but didn't wake up.

Fueled by that light reaction, Lucien swirled his tongue against the bundle of nerves, then used his teeth to graze the soft skin. Meanwhile, his hands travelled lower, past her navel and between her thighs.

When Lucien started stroking her, Hélène involuntarily began to buck her hips in time with his movements, to breathe in time with his kisses, to whimper softly at the wonders he was doing to her body. Eventually, she opened her eyes to find Lucien kneeling between her legs, his lips on her breast and his dark eyes settled on hers. With a smile, the woman tilted her head backwards and reveled in the feelings that were running through her body. Lucien had been rough and cold at first, but over the years he had learned to take his time with her, to adjust his rhythm to hers, to focus on her pleasure as well as his own.

As that dangerous man took her over the edge, Hélène couldn't help but whisper his name and feel like the luckiest woman on Nirn.

* * *

Lucien looked at the Breton who was now having breakfast at his table. Hélène's blonde hair were loose, whereas her green eyes were still sleepy. She was wearing one of his robes and looked extremely sensual as she stretched her spine, allowing the clothes to reveal the pale skin of her bosom. The Breton looked completely oblivious of the effect those movements had on her Speaker, and Lucien couldn't help but smile at her natural grace.

"I take it that you're going to spend the whole day with your beloved alchemy devices", Hélène suddenly said while looking over her shoulder. "Has M'raaj-Dar run out of poisoned apples already?"

Lucien nodded and focused once again on his work. Unfortunately, Hélène's presence always affected his attention, preventing him from finding the concentration he needed to create his complex potions. The woman seemed aware of that and soon distorted her gaze from him.

When they fell into a comfortable silence, Lucien smiled. It was hard for him to feel at ease when someone was intruding his personal space, but Hélène knew exactly how to treat him: she could tell when he needed silence, just like she could tell when he was willing to talk. Her ability to read his mind never ceased to surprise him.

* * *

After she had eaten her breakfast, Hélène stood up and walked towards her knapsack, which was still laying on the floor of the room. She had thrown it there the previous evening, as she'd walked through the trapdoor to find Lucien reading in his bed. The man had immediately helped her down the ladder, then had been quick to seize her mouth in a fierce kiss.

When Hélène noticed that the Speaker had repaired her weapons and filled her knapsack with clean bandages, health potions and different kind of poisons, a wide smile appeared on her face. She loved the way Lucien silently took care of her: although he'd never admit it, he loved her almost as much as he loved the Brotherhood.

"I'm going to the sanctuary to have a talk with Ocheeva, then I'll leave for the next contract", she told him. "Is that okay with you?"

"You can do whatever you wish, Silencer. The only important thing is that you fulfill your contracts and please our Dread Father".

"I'll be gone for a while".

Lucien turned to look at her. Hélène was still wearing his robes, but had her newly repaired cuirass in her hands.

"I am well aware of that, Silencer. Each of us has a duty to fulfill".

Hélène smirked.

"Always so serious", she teased him in a low purr.

As she talked, the Breton walked up to Lucien and looked him right in the eyes.

"I haven't taken my usual potion". When Lucien frowned, the woman added: "You know, for what we did yesterday evening".

The Imperial immediately understood what she was referring to.

"You may have to check in with an alchemist, then".

"Do I have to?"

As he understood what Hélène was asking him, Lucien stiffened. He had known her for years and had been his lover for more than he could remember. Although he still saw her as the young heiress he had been asked to kill, Lucien suddenly realized that over the course of time Hélène had become a mature woman, a loyal murderer, a sensual lover - and by asking him that question, she wanted him to know that she was ready to enter a new stage of their life together.

They'd talked about their chances to create a family more than once, but Lucien hadn't expected Hélène to bring up that topic again.

"No, you don't have to", he whispered after an unusually long moment of silence.

Even Lucien was startled by his reply. Yet, as Hélène smiled and placed a long kiss on his lips, the Imperial felt part of his uneasiness disappear. With a shiver, he realized that the weird sensations he was experiencing could only be described by the four-letter word he loathed so much.

He was in love with his Silencer.


	2. Love

**Author's note:**

 **A big _thank you_ goes to Guest for their review. It's nice to know that someone is reading what I write, and it's even nicer to know that they're enjoying it.**

 **Here's the second chapter of this little DB fanfic. It is told from Hélène's point of view and gives us her opinion on her relationship with Lucien. After these fluffy introductory parts, things are supposed to get rougher.**

 **As usual, thank you for reading!**

* * *

As soon as the lifeless merchant fell to the ground with a loud _thump_ , Hélène used the back of her hand to wipe the sweat from her forehead. Her sword was covered in blood, just like her face and the clothes she was wearing – unfortunately, as the Breton had stabbed him for the first time, her target had suddenly moved out of the way, causing her to mistakenly sever his jugular.

Hélène didn't like the feeling of her victims' blood on her skin. Not only did it make her uncomfortable when she was travelling - it was also one of the few things that still managed to make her feel guilty about her job.

With a sigh, the Breton murderer vowed never to use her sword again – at least, not against a Redguard. After all, destruction spells were much safer _and_ handier against that sort of enemies.

As she examined the merchant she'd just killed, Hélène sighed. She knew she would never keep the promise she'd just made to herself: her sword was a gift from Lucien, a token of his trust and affection. Therefore, she felt bound to use it whenever she could.

After taking the Redguard's coin purse for herself, the blonde assassin headed for the door of the little shack. Jarak Okal had been very careful during his journey through Cyrodiil: he had used a false identity, had never revealed his route to anyone, had even relied on two brutish Orcish sellswords to keep him safe. Unfortunately, his efforts had been in vain – as he had just found out, no one could be targeted by Hélène Dantien and live to tell the tale.

The Black Hand was very aware of the Breton's talent, and so was Lucien Lachance. That was the reason why he had chosen Hélène as his Silencer and his woman: he liked her because she was a lethal assassin, not because she was sweet or kind or beautiful.

Hélène knew that Lucien mainly cared about her because of her skills. As a consequence, she was always surprised when the broody Imperial managed to make feel her loved, courted or simply protected. It took Lucien a lot of effort to forsake his nature when they were together, but over the course of the years the Speaker had learned to show Hélène that he actually cared about her. During the previous few months, for example, he had even made her acquainted with the most hidden side of his soul, the one that could use some solace after receiving particularly bad news from the rest of the Brotherhood – and Sithis knew that, in those long days of chaos and confusion and betrayal, that kind of news was everything but uncommon.

* * *

The _Grey Mare_ in Chorrol was a little, unpretentious inn. Before entering the city, Hélène had washed her face with a spell, then had covered her bloodied armor with a dark, hooded cloak.

As she booked a room for the night, the Breton could feel the innkeeper shift uneasily on his feet. That reaction made her chuckle: she had come a long way from the young, naïve heiress who had first been admitted into the Brotherhood.

Upon reaching her room and thanking the terrified innkeeper for his welcoming, Hélène closed her eyes and wearily slumped on the bed. It took her a lot of willpower to stand up again and change into her sleeping gown, but she eventually forced herself to do it – she had become an assassin, sure, but her noble upbringing never missed the opportunity to show.

As she laid down again, Hélène let out a pleased whimper.

She enjoyed the sensation of the soft mattress under her back, of the warm blankets around her body, of the rain that was softly tapping on the roof. Lulled by that sound, she fell asleep in a matter of seconds.

* * *

An hour later, Hélène jolted upright all of a sudden. Before she could take in her surroundings, a dagger had already appeared in her left hand, whereas a powerful spell was waiting in her right one. There was someone in her room, but it was too dark for the experienced assassin to see anything.

Hélène remained in her fighting stance for what felt like years. The light rain of the evening had been replaced by a violent thunderstorm, so that the noise coming from the outside perfectly matched her frantic heartbeat.

When she eventually understood what was going on, the Breton rolled her eyes and laid down again. As soon as she did, she heard the soft pad of bare feet on the wooden floor of her room.

"You walk rather silently for a Speaker", Hélène said without turning her back to the source of the noise.

"And you sleep rather soundly for a Silencer".

When the bed slightly gave in under Lucien's weight, Hélène closed her eyes. At first she ignored the presence of her lover; yet, as the man's arm came to rest across her waist, she couldn't hold back anymore: she turned towards Lucien, then buried her face in his robes.

"I've missed you", she whispered.

Hélène wasn't offended by Lucien's lack of reaction: ever since they saw each other a month earlier, the Imperial had probably been worrying about the topic of their last conversation. Hélène knew that Lucien loathed caring for another person, let alone two. That's why she'd been surprised when he'd seemingly agreed to build a family with her – and that's why she'd taken the usual contraceptive potion anyway.

If they really were to become parents, she wanted it to be a responsible, joint decision.

"I'm not with child, if that makes you feel better", she immediately told the man. Lucien didn't say anything, but Hélène could feel his shoulders slightly relax under her hands. "We could give it another try, though", she teased him with a grin.

Once again, Lucien didn't reply. He just sneaked his hands under Hélène's gown and slowly raised the skirt to her hips. At that point, he started kissing her neck and tracing languid strokes on her inner thighs.

The Breton couldn't stifle a pleased moan. As the Imperial's hands and movements got more erratic, she made sure that Lucien could feel her body pressed against his lean frame, then she tried to buck her hips against his loin. They were both too tired to lose time in pointless teasing, therefore Hélène soon found herself writhing underneath her Speaker. This time their lovemaking was fast and rough, but nonetheless satisfying.

As the Breton laid on her back and tried to catch her breath, Lucien did the same beside her. Hélène hadn't missed the way the Imperial had bitten her shoulder during his climax, just like she hadn't missed the way he had asserted his dominance through the whole deed. With a frown, she understood that something was off.

"You're rather silent, for a Speaker", she teased him.

Once again, Lucien didn't say anything, a fact that deeply surprised Helen. The Imperial had a good way with words and seemingly loved listening to the sound of his voice. As a consequence, his silence was quite unusual.

"Are you worried about something?"

Despite the poorly lit room, Hélène could see Lucien bringing a hand to his forehead and massage his temples with his slender fingers. When he spoke, he sounded surprisingly tired.

"I've just returned from a meeting in Bravil. There have been a few problems in the other sanctuaries".

Hélène frowned. A meeting in Bravil could only mean one thing – Lucien had met the other members of the Black Hand.

"Care to elaborate?"

The Imperial shook his head.

"I'm here to relax, Hélène. For this night, let the world and its worries fade from our minds".

The Breton smirked. _That_ was the man she'd fallen for.

Hélène curled up at his side, then closed her eyes and laid her head on his chest. She could feel Lucien's heart slowly beating in his ribcage and was pleasantly surprised when the Imperial started stroking her blonde hair.

"I went to see a possible recruit on my way to Bravil", he said after a few minutes of those delicate ministrations.

Without opening her eyes, Hélène chuckled. She was thoroughly enjoying Lucien's caresses, but that didn't prevent her from grinning at the thought of her lover sneaking up on a terrified whelp during the night.

"I take it that you've scared the poor fellow to death, just like the other time and the time before that".

Lucien snorted.

"The recruit actually seemed indifferent, almost bored. Nevertheless, I am sure that she will eventually accept my offer. She looked as though she could use a roof over her head".

"It seem that this new girl has made an impression", Hélène smiled. Most of the times, Lucien described the possible recruits with very unkind words. "I'll have to make sure she understands who the first lady of the sanctuary is. The next time you visit her, I'll probably hang a message saying _Private property - stay away_ around your neck. If she joins us just because she's fallen in love with you…"

Lucien unexpectedly put a finger under Hélène's chin, thus forcing her to close her mouth and look up at him.

"I have no plans of being infidel to you, Hélène", he said, his eyes like burning coals through the darkness. "I hope you realize that".

The Breton frowned. She wasn't one to make lot of jokes and had been offended by Lucien's harsh reaction. For a brief second, Hélène felt the urge to stand up and leave the room. No matter how hard she tried – on those occasions, her noble upbringing always showed up in the worst possible way.

Astonishingly enough, Lucien surprised her by showing her that he had a very good understanding of the inner works of her mind.

"Hélène, I didn't mean to upset you", he told her. "I just wanted you to know that I care about you".

There was a brief pause, during which Lucien heavily sighed.

"In our line of work it is not advisable to grow romantically attracted to anyone", the Imperial continued. "Regrettably, I have forgotten that rule ever since you became my Silencer. I have no idea how long this situation will last and I have to remind you that people like us usually don't get to have a long, pleasant life. At the same time, however, I want you to know that right here, right now, I deeply care for you and would not trade you for anyone else in the world".

As the man stopped talking, Hélène was quick to prompt herself on her elbows and place a long kiss on his lips. Despite the quick reference to the fact that they could both die at any time, Lucien's weird declaration of love was the best thing anyone had ever told her.

As the Imperial returned the kiss and tenderly stroked her cheeks, Hélène felt her heart swell with joy and tenderness. Being an assassin implied living a dangerous life made of risks and dangers and betrayals, but it had also given her the chance to meet such a wonderful man.

With a smile, she realized that her life couldn't get any better than that.


	3. The Storm

**Author's note:**

 **Right when my few readers thought that I'd abandoned this story, here I am with a new update. I know it took me very long, but real life has only recentely granted me the time to work on this fic. I apologize for the delay, and at the same time I thank SpottedFyre and Aonie for their lovely reviews. Also, I deeply thank all those who have favorited / followed this fic. Your support gave me the kick I needed to finally continue writing it.**

 **This instalment is quite short, but it lays the foundation for the next chapter, which will give us an insight in Lucien and Hélène's past.**

 **As usual, thank you for reading!**

* * *

Lucien Lachance was angry.

That, of course, wasn't a news.

The news was that someone was openly challenging him.

A month earlier, upon seeing a young Nord thief make a flawless kill in Skingrad, the revered Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood had smiled. Nienor Bleaksnow was a natural at sneaking, just like she was a natural at spilling blood and looking perfectly calm afterwards.

Upon meeting her for the first time, Lucien had understood that the girl had a crystal-pure talent that was only waiting to be put to good use. Sadly enough, his latest recruit seemed to ignore the meaning of respect: Vicente had given her her second contract more than two weeks earlier, but Nienor still hadn't taken care of that. As a consequence, Baenlin was still breathing the cold air of Bruma. In Lucien's opinion, every minute of the Bosmer's life was a mockery to the Dark Brotherhood and a lack of respect towards Sithis itself.

"This behavior is unacceptable", the Imperial said after standing up from his chair. "No one can join our family and forsake the orders from our Dread Father. If Nienor does not fulfill her duty by the end of the week, I will make sure she sees the error in her ways".

Vicente sighed. He'd reached Fort Farragut to inform Lucien of the lack of news on Nienor's part, but he had immediately come to regret that decision.

"Nienor is young and unexperienced, Lucien. Let me deal with her: perhaps…".

"There are no _perhaps_ , Vicente. Nienor has angered me and now she must cope with the consequences of her actions".

As he noticed the Speaker's cold tone, Vicente frowned. He had taken Lucien under his wings after his admittance into the Brotherhood, he had taught him everything he knew about murders and politics, he had made sure the boy grew into a perfect killer with a deep respect for Sithis and his dark, twisted family – and after all those years spent together, the vampire didn't miss the slight hint of nervousness in the Imperial's voice.

"We can wait for Nienor to return to the sanctuary", he suggested. "She gets along well with Ocheeva, so she will likely listen to her".

"There's no use in protecting Nienor, Vicente", Lucien coldly replied. "She's gifted, but I value loyalty above everything else when it comes to judging our dark siblings. Regrettably enough, Nienor severely lacks that quality. She cannot vanish into thin air right when we need her to carry out a task. It stains our reputation and has a bad influence on our sanctuary".

Grabbing a goblet of wine, Lucien took a sip and directed his black eyes on Vicente. Although the Imperial seemed as detached as usual, the older assassin could sense some cracks in his façade. Something was bothering him, that much was sure. Yet, Vicente had no idea as to what that something could be.

"That will be all for now, Valtieri", Lucien said before his colleague had the time to find out about the reason for his nervousness. "I will track Nienor and make sure she realizes how intolerable her conduct is".

Sighing, Vicente stood up and made to leave. He was very much aware of Lucien's fierce stubborness, just like he was aware of how dangerous the man could be when someone tried to intrude his personal spaces. As a consequence, the vampire knew that there was no use in questioning him about his worries: although Vicente deeply wished for things to be different, there was nothing he could do to save his former pupil from the burden that was risking to crush him under its weight.

* * *

When Vicente disappeared through the trapdoor of Fort Farragut, Lucien took his head in his hands and slowly massaged his temples. He was angry – and to say it all, he was also downright terrified.

The Speaker of the Brotherhood sighed. His life was breaking apart and there was nothing he could do about it. For the first time in his life, Lucien Lachance was _scared_.

In an attempt to get a hold of himself, the Imperial tried to take deep breathes. Thanks to that trick, he soon realized that Nienor and Baenlin had nothing to do with his current state - as a matter of fact, his distress mainly came from something that had happened earlier that week.

It had been more than a month since the last time Lucien met Hélène. Their encounter in a shabby inn of Chorrol had been short and tender and sweet, perhaps even too sweet for two assassins who had turned murder and death into the main pillars of their lives. Nonetheless, on that dark rainy night Lucien had desperately needed his lover - he had needed her scent and her smile and the sweet tone of her voice to fill his senses, thus calming the uproar that the bad news coming from Bravil had caused into his soul; he had needed to look into her eyes and see the innocence that still lingered there, the innocence that had convinced him that no, Hélène couldn't be a traitor, let alone _the_ traitor the whole Brotherhood was trying to unmask; but most of all, on that dark rainy night Lucien had needed to feel the heartbeat of his lover under his fingertips, to feel the way her chest heaved while she was asleep, to feel the way Hélène was incredibly, unmistakably alive; because, after the traitor had already killed a few important members of the Dark Brotherhood, everyone's life was at risk – and if something bad happened to Hélène, Lucien wouldn't forgive himself until the day he died.

In an attempt to ease his nerves, the Imperial walked out of Fort Farragut. The sun had set a few minutes earlier, so that everything was now clad in shadows and mistery and silence. As Shadowmere unexpectedly emerged from the darkness and approached him, Lucien laid a gentle hand on her velvety nostrils.

"I miss her too", he whispered as the horse poked him in the ribs with her head.

There was no need for Lucien to explain whom he was talking about: both he and Shadowmere perfectly remembered the way Hélène had come to the sanctuary more than five years earlier, tired and weary and covered in blood after killing a member of the Morag Tong who had dared following one of his targets in Cyrodiil. Before anyone could congratulate her on her first important murder, Hélène had taken Lucien by the sleeve and had led him to the stables of Cheydinal. The baffled Imperial, who at the time had been the trainer of that talented girl, had followed her after a lot of complaints. Nonetheless, upon seeing the gift Hélène had brought him, Lucien had felt a weird sensation at the pit of his stomach. Shadowmere was the most perfect creature he'd ever seen, and that lethal Breton was willing to pass her over to him in order to thank him for all he'd done for her until that moment. For the first time in his life, that afternoon Lucien realized he'd come across a very special woman, the only one who could make him feel alive even when his robes weren't soaked in blood - and since then, his relationship with Hélène had got better and better.

With a distant smile, Lucien remembered the way Hélène had insisted on cutting his hair after he'd accidentally burnt them with a spell. The man hated short hair, but the young Breton had told him that he looked much better and younger without his pony tail - and back then, Lucien had been naive enough to believe her. Even now Hélène sometimes tried to convince him to return to her favorite haircut, but all her pleas were unsuccessful.

Sighing, Lucien allowed more memories to flow through his mind. He recalled the way Hélène had once collapsed in his room because of her tiredness, the way she'd store his cupboard with rare alchemy ingredients whenever he left on a particularly long and difficult job, the way she'd once fallen asleep while waiting for him inside an inn, thus forcing Lucien to carry her bridal-style to her room. All that had happened long before the two of them became lovers, long before Lucien became Speaker, long before Hélène became Silencer; nonetheless, all of that was an important part of who they were now.

When Shadowmere snorted, Lucien shushed her with a caress. The horse seemed as troubled as him - and she'd looked even more troubled three days earlier, when she and Lucien had accidentally bumped into an old acquaintance of theirs on the way back from one of their dead drops to Hélène.

Lucien Lachance hated Mathieu Bellamont with a passion and despite the Breton's friendly attitude, he knew that the feeling was mutual. The older murderer was sure that Bellamont hadn't forgotten the way he'd beheaded his mother on one of his first jobs; also Lucien was sure that the boy hadn't forgotten the way he'd been forced to leave the Cheydinal sanctuary after a heavy argument with him.

As Lucien recalled that heated fight, he couldn't help but feel a tingle of worry run down his neck. If Mathieu was lurking near Fort Farragut, he was probably up to no good - and the fact that Hélène had been missing for more than a month only seemed to support that theory.

Sighing, Lucien did something he had never done before: rather than asking Sithis to destroy a life, he prayed the Dread Father to protect his Silencer, his best friend, his lover.


	4. The Past

**Author's note:**

 **First things first, I deeply thank Guest for their kind review. It's great to know that you're enjoying this story! :)**

 **The previous chapter showed us Lucien's nervousness at bumping into Mathieu Bellamont while returning from a dead drop to Hélène. This flashback will give us a quick explanation about the Speaker's feelings.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Ten years earlier_

It was a beautiful summer night in Cheydinal. A gentle breeze was sweeping through the grass, carrying the sweet scent of wild flowers all over the city; the sky was full of stars, while the twin moons cast their dim light on the beautiful wooden buildings of the settlement; the little pond by the chapel was as calm as usual, whereas the frogs were performing a pleasant concert for whoever was willing to stop and listen to them. That night looked perfect to forget the worries of life, to enjoy the beauty of Nirn, to love and be loved in return.

Despite that placid atmosphere, in Cheydinal there was at least one person who was not in a good mood - and that person was Lucien Lachance, the broody Executioner of the Dark Brotherhood. A man in his late twenties, the Imperial had become an assassin during his teen years and had never regretted that choice. He especially didn't regret that choice now: after the former Silencer of his sanctuary had been killed, Lucien had been deemed worthy enough to take on the vacant position. Only one murder divided that unsettling man from climbing the first step of the stairway to success - and that step was the murder of a very important nobleman from Anvil.

Killing a member of a count's family was a very big deal, that much Lucien knew. The Imperial also knew that, if he pulled off that heist without problems, the gates to the highest ranks of the Dark Brotherhood would immediately creak open in front of his eyes. The Dunmeri Speaker of the Cheydinal sanctuary was old enough to retire, whereas Vicente Valtieri had announced that he wasn't going to compete for the role of Silencer; given the circumstances, everything seemed ready for Lucien's triumphal march towards the hall of fame of the Brotherhood.

The Imperial had very peculiar reasons for desiring the position of Silencer. Lucien actually didn't care about gold or power or prestige - he wanted to become the new Silencer of the Cheydinal sanctuary just in order to prove that his skills were unmatched. In his wildest dreams the man planned to become the best Speaker the Dark Brotherhood had ever that; in that way, he would follow Sithis' orders down to their last detail and be able to improve his abilities even further. Thanks to his loyalty and his talent, Lucien thought that one day his name could become so revered that no young murderer of the Dark Brotherhood would utter it without feeling a shiver of fear run down their spine.

Just like every single member of Sithis' twisted family, Lucien had many adopted siblings. Vicente was his loyal counsellor and advisor and had also been the one to recruit him in the first place; Ocheeva and Teinava were as deadly as nightshade, whereas Telaendril and Gogron had an impressive amount of talent. Yet, the most skilled members of the Cheydinal sanctuary (or, at least, the most skilled ones according to Lucien) were two young Bretons: Mathieu Bellamont and Hélène Dantien.

Mathieu was a murderer in his twenties, with pale hazelnut eyes and an even paler complexion. The boy was very talented, but Lucien didn't trust him - there was something unsettling about Bellamont, something that prevented the Imperial from considering him a loyal member of the Dark Brotherhood.

As for Hélène, Lucien had no words to describe her. She was young and calm and detached and she was the best pupil the Imperial had ever had - actually, she was also the only person who'd ever been able to put up with the man's requests and with his difficult sessions of training. After killing her own family, the blond Breton seemed to consider Sithis her legitimate father; she therefore acted as his loyal servant and as a honorable sister to the rest of the Dark Brotherhood.

A sudden roar of laughters had Lucien roll his eyes. Despite the way his colleagues were chatting happily in the dining hall of the sanctuary, the broody Imperial couldn't take his mind off his next task.

Furrowing his brow, Lucien focused on a particularly difficult spell described in one of his many books. He was planning to kill the count's brother with a mixture of magic and poison and leave Anvil before his victim could even realize what had hit him. After all, Vicente had already vowed for Lucien's new rank inside the Brotherhood - and the Imperial was more than eager to satisfy his teacher's expectations.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Lucien tried to summon a powerful globe of fire in his right hand. Sadly enough, the noise coming from the nearby rooms prevented him from achieving that goal. The Imperial deeply hoped the count's castle to be much quieter than his den.

When Gogron burst into another loud laughter, Lucien gripped the bridge of his nose and tried to calm his nerves. In that moment the Five Tenents were the only thing preventing him from murdering the Orc - in the first twenty-nine years of his life, Lucien Lachance had killed many people for much less.

There was a new weird noise and the Imperial shook his head in disbelief. To his trained ears, it sounded as though a minotaur was making its way across the sanctuary.

Lucien heard someone pant in effort, then he realized that that very same someone had weakly knocked on the door of his room. Shutting his book close, the man got up from his chair and readied to scold the careless person who'd dared annoy him at that time of the night.

Lucien was surprised when he opened the door to find that no one was there - and he was even more surprised when he noticed the blood on the floor. Before the Imperial could realize what was going on, Hélène's invisibility potion wore off, thus revealing the woman to his eyes. The Breton was pale and was clutching her belly with both hands. Her green irises cast an agonizing glance towards Lucien, then her lips moved without uttering any sound. A second later, the blond murderer fell to the floor.

When Lucien noticed the arrows protruding from her flesh, he did something very unnatural: he let out a yell and asked his siblings for help.

* * *

Lucien looked at the girl asleep in his bed. It was well past midnight and his room had been at the center of a weird pilgrimage for the previous twenty-four hours. So much time had passed since Hélène's arrival to the sanctuary and the desperate attempts Lucien and Vicente had made to keep her alive. Luckily enough, their efforts had paid off.

Frowning, Lucien looked at the pale Breton. She still hadn't retaken consciousness, a fact that deeply worried him. Nonetheless, Vicente believed that Hélène was no longer in danger. Considering the strong poison that had been used on her, the vampire wasn't expecting her to wake up for at least another couple of days.

Lucien yawned. He would have done everything to have his bed back, but the pained expression on his pupil's face was enough for him to realize that, right then, his comfortable mattress and the attached silent room were benefitting Hélène much more than they could benefit him. For once in his life, Lucien felt generous enough to let a girl spend more than an hour under his blankets.

There was a low whimper and Hélène slightly frowned in her sleep. She was still pale and had a very high fever. Nonetheless, the poison had been finally cleansed from her body, whereas the arrows had been extracted from her flesh.

The previous night had been terrible, Lucien had to admit as he rubbed his tired eyes. Magic allowed to treat injuries without causing too much pain and running too many risks, but the poison used on Hélène had prevented him and Vicente from healing her with a spell. Sadly enough, being unable to employ magic had forced the Imperial and his colleague to rely on very barbaric methods; as a consequence, if he focused hard enough, Lucien could still smell the foul scent of Hélène's cauterized skin and feel the way his dagger had cut its way through the marred flesh of her stomach.

There had been a moment, after Lucien had finally carved the last poisoned arrow out of Hélène's body, when Vicente had bared his fangs and got ready to turn the girl into a vampire, as the blood loss was about to kill her. Luckily enough, the little Breton had proved much stronger than predicted. Although he would never admit it, Lucien was proud of her.

There was another soft whimper and the Imperial heard someone call his name. When he looked at Hélène, he realized that the girl was talking in her sleep. Her eyes were circled by black halos, whereas her face was as pale as a vampire's.

"Lucien..."

The Imperial remained silent for a second. He'd never realized how weak and frail Hélène could be - in all his life, he'd just considered her a lethal murderer with very good skills. Said opinion had been deepened by the way the girl seemed to effortlessly prance among dangers without ever getting injured. Unfortunately, her flawless career had been stained by the way someone had managed to put three arrows in her on the previous evening. Lucien wondered what kind of warrior could do something like that and live to tell the tale. The Imperial was angry at that mysterious person - at the same time, however, he couldn't help feeling some admiration for their skills.

"Lucien..."

When Hélène repeated his name, the Imperial wondered whether he was supposed to reply in some way. Lucien had never been badly injured and he'd never looked after his wounded siblings; as a consequence, he had no idea how to behave in that situation.

"Speak not, sister", the Imperial tentatively said when the unconscious girl repeated his name once again. "You're in need of rest and silence".

Hélène didn't show any reaction at those words. When she said his name for what felt like the thousandth time, Lucien did something very unnatural for him - rather than rolling his eyes, he took one of her hands and gave it a gentle squeeze. It seemed that the tiredness was making him more sympathetic than usual.

"You need to rest, Hélène, are we clear? You will recover, but first you need to rest".

Hélène seemed to calm down after hearing those words. She sighed in her sleep, then she slightly moved her neck. The movement caused a pained wince to shadow her beautiful face.

"Your body has been pierced by three poisoned arrows", Lucien informed her. "However, worry not, Eliminator: you're no longer in danger".

As he spoke, the Imperial made two unsettling realizations.

 _First_ , he liked the way his name sounded when it came from Hélène's lips.

 _Second_ , he was sincerely worried about her.

Hélène was the first of Lucien's pupils who'd actually shown some attitude for their job: she was a very quick study and her sweet personality made it even easier to lure her preys into her traps. As well as being an amazing student, Hélène was also one of the few women of Cheydinal who'd never tried to get into Lucien's pants. The Imperial enjoyed her detached and professional attitude, as it luckily allowed him to accept her help without doubting her reasons - and a few months earlier, when Hélène had gifted him with many rare alchemy ingredients from High Rock, Lucien had also realized that the girl had the rare skill of making him smile.

There was another soft whine and Hélène abruptly turned her head to the left. The fast movement uncovered one of her bare shoulders. Lucien was quick to bring her soft woolen shirt back into place.

"Ocheeva has agreed to lend you some of her robes, but they're not a perfect fit", he absent-mindedly told Hélène. "Your armor was utterly destroyed, so we had to remove it".

"I bet you had a wonderful time doing that, didn't you?"

Lucien was startled by Mathieu Bellamont' sudden appearance in his bedroom. The Executioner didn't trust that weird Breton and disliked all those who snuck up on him and made silly remarks about serious things. As a consequence, Bellamont's comment was welcomed by a frown.

"Although you haven't noticed it, Mathieu, our sister Hélène is in need of silence and calm", Lucien said while fighting the urge to snap at his colleague.

"You were the one who was talking to her, not me", Bellamont pointed out with a grin.

As he listened to those words, Lucien wondered for how long the Breton had been spying on him. Also, he realized that Mathieu was damned good at his job - perhaps even too good for his own sake.

"You didn't answer my question, Lachance", Bellamont said as he strode into Lucien's room and slumped down on a chair. Grabbing a nearby apple, the man smiled. "I'm sure that a womanizer like you didn't miss the opportunity to check out Hélène's assets".

Although his face didn't show it, Lucien was outraged by that comment. He'd worked hard for the whole night in order to save Hélène's life, then he'd remained by her side after all his siblings had fallen asleep. And now, a creepy guy like Mathieu was suggesting that he'd done all that just because he wanted to see the young girl naked. Hélène was beautiful, sure, but during the previous hours Lucien had had no time to think about her in a sexual way - actually, with her life on the line, the Imperial hadn't even realized that his pupil wasn't wearing any clothes.

"I was busy saving Hélène's life, not peeping under her robes", Lucien said with a cold tone. "Unlike you, Bellamont, I do not need to tend an injured sister just to see a naked woman".

When Mathieu's face became as red as the apple he was eating, Lucien realized he'd hit a nerve.

"By the way, brother, you'd be much more useful to Vicente", the Imperial said in an attempt to send that creepy guy away from his room. "He's trying to understand what happened to Hélène. The guards of Cheydinal say that she was perfectly fine when she entered the city, therefore her attacker probably lives close to our sanctuary".

Mathieu seemed to become paler at those words, but was quick to stand up and leave the room. As he disappeared, Lucien sighed in relief. Bellamont had joined the Cheydinal sanctuary shortly before Hélène and had always proved to be a very good murderer; nonetheless, the Imperial deeply wished he had never become a member of his family.

Lucien's thoughts were swayed by the way Hélène began to squirm in her sleep as soon as Mathieu left the room.

"Hush, Eliminator, hush", he told her. The Imperial deeply wished that the unconscious girl could hear his words and finally find some peace. "You are inside the sanctuary now, so you're perfectly safe. You're with Vicente, with Ocheeva, with Gogron and all your other brothers and sisters - and you're with me, Hélène. And I swear to Sithis that I will do everything to protect you".

Lucien himself was taken aback by the words he'd just uttered. Nonetheless, at that moment he really meant them: it was the first time Hélène got injured and he was keen on doing everything he could to protect her from further accidents of that kind.

For the first time in his life, Lucien Lachance understood that he deeply, sincerely cared for that young woman nestled under his blankets.

* * *

It took Hélène another couple of days to finally regain consciousness.

As soon as she came to, the girl was welcomed by Ocheeva and Telaendril' smiles. The two women immediately noticed that Hélène was very distressed, therefore they asked Vicente to give her a strong calming draught. By the time the effects of the potion expired and the Breton woke up again, Lucien Lachance had just got home from a vivid session of training.

As the Imperial walked towards his room, he had to stifle the urge to run: he was namely keen on talking to Hélène in order to discover who had hurt her that badly. Whoever the bastard was, they were going to pay.

Lucien's appearance in the corridor outside his room caused Ocheeva to give him a worried look. The Argonian had just abandoned Hélène's bedside and looked tired and sad.

"Hélène is still sore and can barely speak", the woman informed her colleague. "Also, she seems downright terrified. It almost looks as though she fears her attacker to turn up at the sanctuary and hurt her again".

Lucien stifled the urge to frown, then gestured for Ocheeva to let him reach his room. As soon as he entered that place, the Imperial walked up to Hélène's bedside.

The girl was conscious, but she looked pained and weak. She shuddered when Lucien approached her, but she visibly relaxed when she recognized him. Lucien twitched his lips in an expression that vaguely reminded a smile, but was actually very worried by Hélène's paleness and by her laboured breathing.

"How do you feel?", he asked her after sitting down on a chair by her bed.

Whining, the Breton shook her head. When she didn't reply, Lucien realized that Ocheeva had described her situation in a very neat way: Hélène was so sore that she could barely speak.

There was a long moment of silence, as Lucien had no idea how to address his pupil in that situation. Eventually, he decided to ask her a simple question.

"Do you need anything?"

The Imperial was surprised by the words that had just left his lips. Whenever he was around Hélène, he always behaved in a very weird way, which apparently included suggesting she treated him like her own personal waiter.

"Schemer", Hélène said in a feeble whisper. "I... hug him".

Lucien frowned. If he needed any proof that Hélène still wasn't alright, he'd just had it - the Breton usually hated Gogron's pet, but now she was asking him to catch that beast and bring it to her so that she could give it a hug. Unfortunately for her, there was no way Lucien was going to touch that rat, let alone allow him into his bed.

"I'm afraid you'll have to express more realistic needs, Hélène", the Imperial told her. "I don't like pets".

Hélène frowned, then spoke again.

"Mathieu..."

Lucien broke her off.

"Mathieu is out hunting. He's helping Vicente track down the person who did this to you. I can call Telaendril if you want, or Ocheeva, or...".

Hélène shook her head.

"Don't... understand".

Lucien frowned.

"What do you imply by claiming that..."

"Mathieu...", Hélène broke him off. Her green eyes suddenly filled with tears. "Arrows... He did it. He... He hurt me".

For the first time in his adult life, Lucien deadpanned. Mathieu was a weird guy, had always been, but there was no way he could have injured one of his siblings. Hélène had probably imagined it, she'd probably mistaken him for someone else, she'd probably...

"Hey guys! How are ya?"

Lucien abruptly turned to look at Mathieu. The man was standing in the doorway and had an arrogant smile on his face. As soon as Hélène saw him, she visibly paled and started trembling. One of her hands clutched her injured stomach, while the other unsuccessfully tried to summon a spell. Lucien was shocked by that reaction: it looked as though Hélène really thought that Mathieu had hurt her.

Willing to buy himself more time to ponder that situation, the Imperial frowned.

"You make our sister uncomfortable", he calmly told Mathieu. "I suggest you to leave".

Bellamont chuckled, then approached Hélène's bed.

"Are we sure she didn't hit her head?", he asked. "If she's scared of me but not of you, it means that she is quite confused".

As Mathieu got closer, Lucien noticed a red welt on his neck. The Imperial had already seen a few of those marks and perfectly knew that they were the result of a close encounter with Sithis' Wrath, the creature that attacked those who dared disobey the Five Tenents - and the Five Tenents clearly prohibited attacking a fellow assassin.

That realization succeeded in the difficult task of leaving Lucien speechless. Hélène was a very careful and talented killer, therefore the person who had hurt her was probably a very skilled fighter - either that, or they were someone the girl trusted. In that way, her attacker could have approached her and hurt her when she wasn't expecting that. With a shiver, Lucien understood that Mathieu Bellamont perfectly matched the description: he was dangerous, he was a person Hélène trusted, he was very good at brewing poison and using a bow. The mark on his neck and the girl's reaction to his presence only strengthened Lucien' suspicions.

Frowning, the Imperial stood up from his chair and grabbed Bellamont by the elbow.

"What are you doing?", Mathieu asked.

Lucien didn't miss the slight worry in his voice and the look of guilt in his eyes: if he needed any further proof of Bellamont's role in Hélène's accident, he'd just had it.

While leading the Breton away from Hélène, Lucien Lachance swore to Sithis that he would never allow Mathieu Bellamont to hurt any other member of his family.


	5. The meeting

**Author's note:**

 **Although it may seem otherwise, I haven't forgotten about this story - simply enough, over the last few weeks I've been busy with my offline life and my other writing projects. Now however I'm back on the tracks and I'm ready to publish a new chapter. First, however, let me thank Era-Age for their kind review: your comments and suggestions gave me the kick I needed to revise this instalment and finally publish it. Oh, and Hélène definitely is a lovely name - probably my favorite one among French names.**

 **The previous chapter provided us with a little flashback in Mathieu,** **Hélène** **and Lucien's relationship - and now, after lurking around Fort Farragut, Bellamont has another close encounter with an assassin from Cheydinal.**

 **Enjoy and thank you for reading!**

* * *

The little hall of Roxey Inn was surprisingly crowded. As she made her way between Legionnaires, local customers and casual travelers, Hélènetried to look as frail and harmless as ever. It wasn't difficult, actually: despite her leather armor and her sharp daggers, the Breton's natural grace and her exquisite manners made her look like a delicate mountain flower who'd accidentally grown in the wilds surrounding the Imperial City. Thanks to those innate qualities, no one in the tavern suspected Hélène Dantien to be a lethal assassin from the Dark Brotherhood – but most of all, no one suspected her of the heartless murder of an old, infirm man who had been beheaded in Bruma less than twenty hours earlier.

As she sat down at a table and ordered some food for her journey, Hélène kept on smiling at the other customers. Spurred by her delicate features, a few Legionnaires asked her whether she needed an escort for her travels, but the Breton gently turned down their offer.

"I'm much tougher than I look", she told them with a kind smile.

The Legionnaires seemed disappointed by that reply, but Hélène made it up for it by inviting them to her table. Lucien wouldn't approve, of course – and in normal circumstances Hélène wouldn't have risked for those soldiers to remember her face either. Yet, that morning the slender Breton was feeling surprisingly lonely; as a consequence, she felt the awkward urge of talking to someone.

When she was finally done with her breakfast, Hélène bid her hosts farewell, paid the publican a generous amount of money and reached her beautiful white stallion. Buttercup had a lame name that made Lucien snort every time he heard it, but it was also the sweetest horse Hélène had ever come across in her life; as a consequence, she treated him as affectionately as her lover did with his own steed, the mysterious Shadowmere.

The thought of Lucien caused Hélène to let out a long sigh. The Breton hadn't seen her lover in more than a month, a fact that usually didn't bother her – after all, she and Lucien were used to very scarce meetings in the most sordid places of Cyrodiil, where they would be together for just a few hours before resuming their important tasks for the survival of the Dark Brotherhood. Nonetheless, the last encounter with the Speaker had made Hélène deeply unease: Lucien was worried by something that was happening inside the Brotherhood - and as his lover and his sister, the experienced killer felt bound to find out what that something was. After all, Hélène wasn't a child anymore: she was an important piece in the puzzle of death that Sithis designed every day, therefore she felt the need to contribute to the safety of her family.

While fiddling with the saddle of her horse, Hélène tried to forget the sharp nostalgia she felt for Lucien, for his velvety voice, for the way his warm hands often made their way across her body. Right before the Breton could hop on her horse and leave, however, someone unexpectedly called her name.

As soon as she turned her head, Hélène found herself face-to-face with an old acquaintance of hers.

* * *

Once upon a time, Mathieu Bellamont had been Helene's best friend - the two assassins both came from High Rock, had both lost their mothers in an unexpected way, had both joined the Brotherhood after their blood families had been torn to pieces by Sithis. Yet, ten years earlier something terrible had happened, thus creating an eternal division between those two lethal murderers.

Hélène perfectly remembered the way she'd come home from a task on a warm summer night: she remembered greeting the guards at the Cheydinal gates, she remembered reveling in the beauty of her hometown, she even remembered looking forward to the pleased expression Lucien would display as soon as he found out about her latest, flawless kill. Then, the girl remembered coming across Mathieu.

According to many, Bellamont had always been a very strange guy – he had an unsettling laughter, he loved dissecting his food over dinner, he burst into tears every time someone mentioned his mother; nonetheless, Hélène had always protected him from every critic, had always shielded him with her excuses, had even stood up for him when Lucien punished him for failing a mission. As a consequence, when she'd seen Mathieu hiding in a garden with a bow in his hands, the girl had ignored the tingle of worry at the back of her neck; her friend was weird, sure, but he was completely harmless - at least, he was completely harmless when it came to talking to his dark siblings. Unfortunately for Hélène, that warm summer night was enough for her to realize how wrong she'd been in trusting Mathieu. Before she could even realize it, her countryman had namely shot a few arrows at her – and one of them had already carved its way into the soft flesh of her abdomen. Shocked and confused, Hélène had tried to dodge the new attacks, but to no avail: by the time the young Breton had managed to drink an invisibility potion, she'd already been hit by three poisoned arrows.

From then on, Hélène's memories were rather blurred; nonetheless, the girl perfectly remembered the pain in her body, she perfectly remembered her desperate walk towards the Cheydinal Sanctuary, she perfectly remembered the way she'd gripped her injuries abdomen with her bloody hands; but most of all, Hélène remembered the fear she'd felt in that moment – she had no idea whether Mathieu was following her, she had no idea whether he'd simply made a mistake, she didn't even know why he'd hurt her in the first place. Perhaps the Breton had been asked to purify their family, perhaps he'd simply lost his mind; yet, however things stood, that night Hélène had immediately realized that there was only one person who could provide her with the safety and the cures and the answers she needed – and that person was her trusted trainer, Lucien Lachance.

Hélène didn't remember much of the following days – she confusingly recalled Lucien's astonished expression when she'd passed out right outside his room, she recalled the way Vicente had cured her, she recalled how Teinaava and Telandril had treated her with a mixture of kindness and worry and affection as soon as she'd regained consciousness - but most of all, Hélène remembered the way Lucien had reacted when she'd let him understand who her attacker was. According to many, the Imperial Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood was a cold and detached man who never allowed anger to control his actions. The night he found out about Mathieu's part in Helene's injury, however, Lucien hit the Breton so badly that Bellamont temporarily believed that his face would never be the same again. Ever since then, Mathieu had been living in the Anvil Sanctuary; Hélène, on the other hand, had discovered that her family could sometimes host traitors. Also, she'd realized the importance of her feelings for Lucien.

After all those years, Hélène still hadn't discovered why Mathieu had attacked her on that warm summer night. The leaders of the Brotherhood had always believed him when he said that he'd mistaken the girl for the target of an innocent archery game; nonetheless, the experienced woman had never regained the trust she'd once placed in that pale countryman of hers – and given the circumstances, when Mathieu Bellamont approached her near the stables of Roxy Inn, Hélène couldn't stifle the cold shiver that suddenly ran down her spine.

* * *

Hélène carefully eyed the pale man in front of his eyes. Mathieu was rather short, but his features were very attractive; yet, something in his pale face and his sleepy eyes was enough to give the woman the creeps.

At first Hélène hoped she'd mistaken that Breton for someone else – yet, when Mathieu got closer to her, she realized that her eyes hadn't betrayed her. The woman wasn't happy about that: it'd been about a year since she last came across that unsettling colleague and had no wish to spend time in his company.

"We do live in a little world", Mathieu said once Helene got within earsreach. "It looks like I've just come across my most beautiful colleague; also, it seems that the lovely Helene is back from a dead drop. Apropos, I do need to compliment on you: that murder in Bruma was simply perfect".

As Mathieu smiled at her, Hélène felt a cold shiver run down her spine. As an assassin, she wasn't used to being afraid; yet, that man always managed to upset her and make her unease.

"We shouldn't talk", the expert murderer hissed while casting nervous glances all around the courtyard. "You know the rules, Mathieu: never talk to a sibling when you meet them in the open and…"

"And never put them in danger, I know; nonetheless, you should remember that I've never been good at following rules, especially the ones explaining how I should relate to my adopted family".

When confronted with that comment, Hélène fought the urge to frown. By subtly recalling the way he'd hurt her, Mathieu was playing with fire; yet, the experienced Silencer had no intention of letting her irritation through: she was a loyal daughter of Sithis, so she wasn't going to hurt him no matter how much Mathieu annoyed her.

"Unlike you, I've never had problems respecting the Five Tenents", Hélène frowned in a weak attempt to change topic of conversation. "As a consequence, I'm afraid I must bid you goodbye, Mathieu: I don't want to raise suspicions in a particularly zealant guard".

A minute later, as she hopped on her horse and finally left Roxey Inn, Hélène could feel Mathieu's eyes boring into her back. That awareness scared her so much that, for the first time in her life, the experienced Breton felt the need to visit Lucien and curl up in his arms. Unfortunately, she couldn't know that her lover was as worried as her about Mathieu's unexpected presence around his house.

There were many weird elements about Bellamont, but one thing Hélène knew: her lethal countryman was up to no good.


End file.
